


The Depths of Moria

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: finding mithril





	

 

                     'The Depths of Moria'

  
    Durin slipped away from the feasting, some lingering unease troubled even such joy as the discovery of mithril had brought him. He picked up an oilcan and applied it to the wheels of the canvas seat slung between the rails of the Long Stair. Lantern in one hand he released the chair with his other and began to spiral down the uncounted stairs.

  
    He could not doubt the assays, mithril ! Lighter than wood, tougher than steel, as impervious to alteration as purest gold ! That it even existed was cause for awe. That it should be beneath his feet, under his House, in apparently vast quantities, filled him with devotion for Mahal the Creator and all his fellow Valar.

   The layers of rock spun past him; that vexing pyrites spiralling mockingly beside him, flickering in and out like marsh-fire. He was comforted by the creamy marble that took layers to pass, excellent for building work.   
As the little wheels began to heat up, smoke rose from the groove in the walls at his sides. He leaned forwards with the oil can and poured it onto the rims. The noise reduced and the speed increased. He pulled on the lever and the chocks pressed down on the wheels, the chair slowed slightly in its descent and Durin grimaced as his last ale bulged gaseously in his stomach. He burped loudly, laughing at the echoes and the echoes of his laugh.

  
   Finally he recognized the glittering grey layer of hard rock before the mithril bearing ores. He pressed the brake hard as the chair sped round to the sacks of hay that were all that stood between him and the water barrels at the face of the excavation.  
   Frélin was sitting on a barrel and did not rise when Durin slid out of the chair

   'Its real. Its like silver, its what silver should be. Its more REAL than silver.' he exclaimed.   
Durin nodded.

   'This is what Mahal had in mind when he made silver. This is the true silver.'  
Frélin stood up.

   'Truesilver !' 

 

 


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